


happy valentine's day

by peppershrike



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chocolate, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day, karasuno vbc as found family, keishin ukai is a simp, shimada and takinoue are good friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppershrike/pseuds/peppershrike
Summary: “Now pretend you’re Takeda. Your hot, hardworking, funny coworker gives you chocolates. What would you do? Refuse?”“Please stop,” Keishin said, because his head was suddenly all too full of fantasies. Fantasy Keishin giving Fantasy Takeda chocolates and asking if he’d like to get dinner. Fantasy Takeda blushing and agreeing. Fantasy Keishin kissing Fantasy Takeda in the empty gym--He slapped the side of his head, and then Yusuke’s for good measure. “God, fine. You owe me so much beer for when this blows up and we have to drink away yet another Valentine’s Day.”...or, keishin gets his shit together to ask a certain faculty advisor out, and considers the family he's built along the way.
Relationships: Shimada Makoto/Takinoue Yuusuke, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	happy valentine's day

**Author's Note:**

> for my love, brig  
> & for all the karasuno alumni stans out there, this one's for you

**8:14 AM, Sakanoshita Store, Miyagi.**

Keishin stared at the Valentine’s day display at the front of the store. The display stared back. He lit a cigarette and glared at the glossy red and pink monstrosity. It was mocking him. It was definitely mocking him. His own store, and it was mocking him. _Fuck this day._ He felt like the Grinch, if the Grinch was hopelessly in love and coped by being even grumpier than normal. _Fuck this day!_ He tilted his head back to the ceiling, stretched out from feet propped up on the counter to arms slung over the back of the chair. His morning shift ended at ten. Afternoon shift from eleven to three. Then volleyball practice from three-thirty to seven-thirty. He had until three-thirty to figure his shit out. The bell on the door rang.

“Oh--Coach?” _Not you_ , he groaned internally, turning to face Daichi. A good kid. A great captain. Keishin was proud of him. He was also horribly jealous, because Daichi was basically celebrating the three-year anniversary of his perfect marriage to his vice captain, and Keishin wanted to throw his cigarette against a wall. He loved the kids on his team with everything he had, but today of all days he wanted nothing more than to cancel practice and wallow in his misery. What goddess of love had decided to smile down upon the Karasuno volleyball club and give them all adorable little love stories? The captain and vice were dating. His pick for the second-year captain was dating the second-year ace. The freak duo had been through earlier to buy each other surprise chocolates. Even that prickly lamppost of a first-year had somehow managed to convince Yamaguchi to go out with him. It was all a scam. Everything was a scam. 

“Morning, Sawamura,” he managed. “What’s up?”

“Oh--just. Here,” the captain said, furiously red, dropping a huge bouquet of roses on the counter. Keishin looked at the roses, then at Daichi. The third-year stared resolutely at the floor.

“These for Sugawara?” He rang the roses up. Thank goodness none of the students had caught on to the little fifteen-percent discount he’d been slipping them yet, because they sure as hell needed it. Why the Karasuno first-years felt the need to spend thousands of yen a week on Pocky and Garigari popsicles, he had no idea. As long as they were still eating real food sometimes. 

“Yeah, they’re for Koushi--I mean, Suga,” Daichi said. “Uh, also, Coach?”

“Hm?” 

“Are you and Takeda-sensei dating?” Keishin choked on an inhale and coughed, sputtering, face burning, as Sawamura looked on in horror. “I mean--I didn’t think--”

“Jesus, Sawamura,” Keishin managed, the acrid taste of smoke still clawing its way up his throat. _God, I wish._ And then, because he really had no idea what he could possibly say to his third-year student captain who had caught on to half but not the crucial other half of the situation, “Jesus _christ_ , Sawamura.” The poor kid was standing there clutching the dripping roses in comical horror, face wide and apologetic, cheeks burning. “ _No,_ ” Keishin clarified. “We are _not._ ”

“O-oh,” Daichi stammered. “I just. Uh. Never mind, then,” he blabbered, before scooping up the roses and sprinting out of the store. Keishin stared after him. _What the fuck? Okay._ He dropped himself back on his chair, lit another cigarette, and closed his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. The soothing menthol smoke cooled the flaming embarassment in his face. Inhale. Exhale.

 _Are you and Takeda-sensei dating? God_ , _I wish._

He wasn’t sure when during the six months he’d been coaching Karasuno he’d fallen for the little faculty advisor. Maybe it had been from the very first time Takeda Ittetsu walked into his store, all bright with determination and fierce with pride. Keishin had refused out of habit, because surely this (undeniably cute, but he had shoved that thought aside) teacher was only after the Ukai family name and not anything else. And then he’d shown up the next day. And the day after that. With stories of wildly skilled first years and a stubborn tenacity that informed Keishin oh-so-politely that he would keep coming back until he agreed to show up to practice at last once.

And so he had, and he’d been hit in the face by a wave of memories so sudden and violent he had to sit down. Himself as a third year going to Nationals for the first time. He’d loved volleyball with everything he’d had, the feeling of guiding a ball through the air for Makoto to slam down or watching the opponents dive to the floor chasing after a setter dump. Impossibly fast quick attacks polished to a point with that superhuman first year Udai. The satisfaction of a service ace. No matter how often he played with Makoto and Yusuke on the neighborhood team, he could never truly get the ache to be back in a well-lit gym out of his bones. He could have gone pro, maybe. Two Division 2 teams had asked after him. _Shut up, Keishin._ It was the middle of goddamned Valentine’s Day morning. This was not the time to go spiraling down the hole of regretting his teenage rebellion of rejecting volleyball entirely and deciding to work on his mother’s farm and store. He had realized that his irritating old man had been right all along, that he loved coaching even more than he had loved playing, and that somewhere along the line he’d fallen in love with Takeda as well. 

He still remembered that quiet ride back from Tokyo, the students all asleep in their bus seats. _I’m grateful for you, Specs. You’ve done so much for these kids. And me too, honestly--if not for you I’d still be sitting grumpily behind the store counter yelling at loud customers._

_I’m really glad you agreed, Keishin. It’s been wonderful. You’re going to take these boys places._

_Nah, we both are._

Takeda had turned to look at him then, the bus stopped at a light. Those brown eyes sparkling with pride and joy and something else--Keishin wanted to look at that face for the rest of his life. He’d smiled back, then, a tentative thing, little bursts of joy behind his sternum, and stored the memory of Takeda’s little grin in his head for the rest of the month, to take out and examine over many a late-night cigarette. He’d stooped so low as to call Yusuke and Makoto for advice: Yusuke had been no help, of course, because he’d gone through their entire lives quietly pining for Makoto and horribly failing to get over him. Makoto himself had also been no help, because he had always been the friendly, pretty, smart one to Keishin and Yusuke’s chaotic near-delinquency back in high school (damn jump float server getting all the boys _and_ girls), and so he’d just told Keishin to _tell him, you’re a catch honestly, if nothing else it’ll get your aunts off your back about getting married._

Maybe he needed more friends.

“Oi! Keishin!” _Speak of the fucking devil._ Takinoue Yusuke marched into the store in all his blond-haired, crooked-smirked glory. At least both of them had grown up to be quite good-looking. Probably some deity’s apology for giving Makoto all three of their shares of prettiness in high school. 

“What do you want, Yu?” At least Yusuke could be trusted to keep his mouth shut when it came to Keishin’s Takeda problem, thanks to the whole lifelong crush he’d been nursing. He supposed a side effect of being slightly immature, emotionally challenged jocks throughout high school and only figuring their shit out in their early twenties had the unfortunate effect of giving them schoolboy crushes at the sprightly age of 26. Life was not good when you were sympathizing with pining high school students. 

“I’m here to scheme, of course,” Yusuke said, looking affronted. He swung around the counter and pulled up a chair. “Mako’s busy this morning, something about making chocolate.” Keishin winced in sympathy. Whoever Makoto’s valentine was, they were lucky--his chocolate was legendary. “Sorry,” he muttered to Yusuke, because that had to hurt. 

“‘S fine,” Yusuke shrugged. “My fault for not doing anything for, let’s see…literally over a decade. I’ve accepted my fate.” Keishin arched an eyebrow. “Okay, yeah. We’ve been over this, Kei, I’d rather be friends with him and not risk fucking that up.”

“Sounds familiar,” Keishin said archly, considering Sawamura, considering Tsukishima. 

“We can’t all be the weirdly blessed baby crows,” Yusuke grumbled. “But! This is about you! Being a weirdly blessed elder crow!” Keishin glared harder. Yusuke just grinned, all straw-blond hair and blinding teeth, and dramatically dropped a heavy book on the table. Keishin’s heart dropped with it. It was a horribly familiar book, still stained with the memory of desperately trying to make chocolate for Makoto in third year and the sting of Takinoue-san’s spatula when she discovered the mess they’d made of her kitchen. “No.”

“Yes,” Yusuke said, grinning wider, starting to remind Keishin of that crazy Nekoma captain. “Come onnn. It’s a great idea.”

“No--”

" _Ye_ _s_ ,” Yusuke wheedled, waving the recipe book through the light haze of smoke in the air. “Now pretend you’re Takeda. Your hot, hardworking, funny coworker gives you chocolates. What would you do? Refuse?”

“Please stop,” Keishin said, because his head was suddenly all too full of fantasies. Fantasy Keishin giving Fantasy Takeda chocolates and asking if he’d like to get dinner. Fantasy Takeda blushing and agreeing. Fantasy Keishin kissing Fantasy Takeda in the empty gym--He slapped the side of his head, and then Yusuke’s for good measure. “God, fine. You owe me so much beer for when this blows up and we have to drink away yet another Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, deal,” Yusuke muttered. “Seriously, though,” and he set the book down and looked directly at Keishin, grey eyes clear and sincere, “I really think you’ve got a shot. I’ve been to your games. Hell, the four of us have gone drinking together. I promise you he’s looked at you the way you look at him at _least_ twice.”

“Don’t give me hope,” Keishin mumbled, flipping through the recipe book and dragging heavily on his cigarette. “God, what if he and Mako end up going out. That would be actual hell.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Yusuke hissed. “Jesus _christ_ , Kei.”

“I’m just saying. We’re different people in the same font. Mako is just Takeda but like, in bold. What if we’ve been idiots this whole time and neither of us is either of their types.”

“I’m just going to choose to pretend you never said that,” Yusuke declared, plucking the cigarette from Keishin’s fingers and stubbing it out in his little ashtray. It had been a Christmas present from Takeda, Keishin’s brain chose that inopportune moment to remember. A little round glass thing with a painting of crows in the bottom. _Damn it. Damn it all to hell._ He found the still-stained page he and Yusuke had spent hours suffering over all those years ago. 

“…This is going to go horribly.”

**11:47 AM, Sakanoshita Store, Miyagi.**

It was going surprisingly well.

Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Ennoshita had stopped by during their lunch break and were seated in the Sakanoshita kitchen, watching Keishin slowly stir his second non-botched bowl of melting chocolate. He wondered how it had become routine for some, or half, or all of the volleyball team to spend their lunch breaks in the back of the store. Keishin hid a smile in his collar, thinking about how long it had been since he’d spent his break alone with a cigarette and bad music. _Take that, aunties, I don’t need to get married to have a family. I am_ not _a bitter lonely man._

“Ugh, not more chocolate,” Tanaka had groaned upon seeing Keishin’s bowl. “Saeko woke me up at five in the morning clanging pots and pans trying to make chocolate for Alisa. I’m, like, scared to go home, it’ll be a miracle if the house is still there.”

“Eh, you can just come over,” Noya was saying. “Ooooor, you could go to Chikara’s--”

“Shut up, Yuu,” Ennoshita spluttered, kicking at their libero, face bright red. “I’m sure Saeko won’t burn down the house…She showed Kiyoko how to make soup for Yacchan that once time, she’s not _completely_ a danger to the kitchen.”

“True,” Tanaka said cheerfully. “But, hey, Chikara--do you want to get dinner after practice today?” Keishin made sudden eye contact with Nishinoya, who looked positively mad with glee. _Jesus christ, Tanaka. Right in front of my chocolate. Eh, maybe this’ll imbue it with good luck. Or something._ He watched Ennoshita glow pink, and then nod. Nishinoya abruptly tackled the both of them, shrieking, while Tanaka pressed a brief kiss to the back of Ennoshita’s hand. _Maybe it’s tradition for Karasuno captain and vice to be hopelessly in love. They don’t even know they’re going to be leading this cult next year and they’re already reaching Sawamura and Sugawara’s levels of horribly cute. God._ “Okay, out, out, out,” he scolded, waving the chocolate-chovered spatula at them. Ennoshita choked, apologized profusely, and yanked Tanaka out of the store. Nishinoya lingered behind and stared pointedly at the chocolate.

“Coach?”

“Hmm?” 

“You’re making those chocolates for Sensei, right?” _Oh_. Keishin nearly dropped the spoon as the little libero stared archly at him, copper eyes bright over crossed arms and a sideways grin.

“Yes,” he said suspiciously. The mischief slipped from Nishinoya’s gaze, replaced with something that looked strangely like relief.

“Good luck,” he said sincerely. Keishin squinted at him. He may have played setter in high school, but Keishin saw the most of his old self in Nishinoya: all overflowing ferocity and friendships so close they were basically brotherhood. He cursed whoever made the decision that liberos couldn’t be volleyball captains for the thousandth time. 

“What about you, then?” Surely someone would have made chocolates for him. Nishinoya was certainly the sort who would be popular, all big grins and infectious laughter and a gift for befriending people in the space of three seconds. He was just as reliable of a friend as he was a libero, someone who the little family of Karasuno trusted with everything they had. 

“I’m ace,” Nishinoya shrugged. “ _No, you’re the libero,_ haha! Ryuu says that every time and he still thinks it’s funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” Keishin mumbled, trying to fight back the snort of laughter that had suddenly threatened to escape. “How’s today going, then? If you need to hide from the hordes I can hide you in here _just for today, though_ ,” he added quickly at the evil grin on Nishinoya’s face. They both laughed. _God, this kid’s got a gift for making people relax around him._

“It’s fine, normally Kiyoko pretends to be my girlfriend to intimidate everyone away,” Noya grinned. “But thanks, Coach. Want me to go find out what Sensei likes in his chocolate?” Keishin grinned back at the libero. Maybe he did have something of a chance with Takeda, if half the team thought so. “Yeah. But don’t be too obvious about it--” he called as Nishinoya leaped up and sprinted off. He looked back down at the bowl of chocolate he was stirring. _Guess is what the old man was talking about all those years. They really are like my kids, huh?_

His phone pinged, informing him under a string of texts telling Nishinoya to study for a math test that Takeda liked raspberries in his chocolate. He looked over at the boxes of raspberries on the produce shelf.

“I’ve got this, right? Yeah. I’ve got this.”

**1:03 PM, Shimada residence, Miyagi.**

“Hey,” Makoto greeted from his _kotatsu_. Its surface was covered in pink and white and lace and ribbon, and Keishin balked in the entryway. _What am I doing with my life? Wooing. You’re wooing. Mako’s the only one of us with any actual love life, listen to him for once, dumbass._ He slid off his sneakers and sat down opposite his friend, setting the small plastic box of successful chocolates on a corner of the _kotatsu_. He’d only managed twenty decent-looking roses, the rest of them either deformed or melted, but he was proud. Little chocolate roses with raspberry filling. Not a small feat.

“So you finally figured your shit out,” Makoto said dryly as Keishin sat down, picking up a plain round box. He stared at his friend, watching careful brushstrokes paint a burst of sunflowers on a little rectangular box, the lid painted a bright blue.

“Sunflowers, not traditional,” he muttered, because he wasn’t sure if he could handle Makoto’s teasing when he was seated on the floor decorating a box to put handmade Valentine’s chocolates in. The thought of Takeda’s soft brown eyes crinkling with joy that way they did startled him into picking up a jar of pale green paint. _Same color as that jacket he likes._

“Eh,” Makoto shrugged. “They remind me of him. Not a _word_ , hot for teacher,” he added sharply as Keishin snapped his head up to stare at Makoto. _Him. God, Yusuke’s going to be disappointed. He does this to himself every goddamn year._ “Please never call me that again,” he cringed, face heating. Makoto just smirked, all quiet and amused, and Keishin felt another pang of sympathy for Yusuke. 

“So you’re saying I know him, then,” he began, carefully painting the light green over the round box. “And he’s probably cheerful if he reminds you of sunflowers.”

“Christ, Kei,” Makoto said, dropping his paintbrush. “Yusuke. They’re for Yusuke.”

“HELLO?” He leaped backwards from the _kotatsu,_ grabbing Makoto’s face in his hands. Unimpressed grey eyes stared flatly from behind round glasses. _Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck they’re finally getting their shit together jesus CHRIST I am going to be so lonely tonight HOLY SHIT FUCK YES FINALLY._ “Oh my _god,_ ” he yelled, watching Makoto’s pale cheeks dust red. “Oh my god?”

“If you say a word to him--”

“I won’t I won’t I won’t,” he hurriedly promised, releasing Makoto’s face and smiling so hard his cheeks ached as he returned to painting the box green. “I’m just happy for you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been kind of a dumbass,” Makoto said quietly, adjusting his glasses and lining his painted box with soft yellow tissue paper. “I liked him through all of high school, you know. Didn’t feel right, ‘cause I thought maybe he just liked me out of some kind of weird obligation.”

“You think too much, Mako,” Keishin grinned. “Maybe it’s good, though. Don’t think I would have survived third-wheeling through _all_ of high school. Yikes.”

“I hope it’s not too late,” his friend added, even more quietly. Keishin paused his careful placement of white paper hearts on the box to stare at him. _God, do you have any idea how in love with you he is?_

“It’s not,” he assured him. “Trust me. I’m glad, Mako,” he added, knocking his fist against his friend’s. “You guys are going to be great. Now I just have to be the best man for one wedding,” he added cheerfully. His head was still spinning, even as Makoto blushed through a glare. The three of them had grown up hand in hand, had gone through bullying and childhood obsessions and growing into teenagers and then adults together. Keishin’s hands still bore setter’s calluses, knuckles scarred in matching sets with Yusuke’s from buzz-headed third years chasing down Makoto trying to get him to do their homework. The little pin of achievement on his diploma was borne of weeks of staying up horribly late with Makoto explaining math formula after math formula to him. His one high school boyfriend still probably had that list of threats Yusuke had scribbled down in his terrible handwriting of what would happen to him if he broke Keishin’s heart. (It hadn’t stopped him.) He looked at Makoto, chewing on his bottom lip as he carefully wrapped perfect star-shaped chocolates topped with swirls of candied orange in cellophane and arranged them in the box, and of Yusuke’s special Mako-smile he’d been seeing for the past decade. A warmth bubbled up in his chest as he picked up the cellophane and started wrapping the first of the little chocolate roses. Family, was what they were. 

His mind drifted to Sawamura and Sugawara walking home together each night, hands intertwined, of the soft kisses Tanaka pressed to the back of Ennoshita’s hands when he thought nobody was looking, of Nishinoya’s arms thrown around everyone’s shoulders, of Azumane walking protectively by Yachi in the halls, of Hinata’s boundless energy bringing rare smiles out of Kageyama, out of Tsukishima’s spiky shell slowly thawing to bantering friendship as Yamaguchi looped their arms together. On top of it all, Takeda’s soft dark curls, Takeda’s light green jacket, Takeda’s hand thoughtlessly finding its way into his during a tense rally, Takeda’s arms around his neck as Keishin whirled him around in pure euphoria as they won the Shiratorizawa match, Takeda’s wide brown eyes sparkling with laughter and pride and joy for their team.

Keishin wiped at his eyes, tugging a soft pink ribbon around the square box. Family. He’d built himself a family he was unbearably proud of, from the absence of his father and his mother’s early passing and his grandfather’s demand that he form independence above all else. He glanced up at Makoto.

“Hey, Mako?”

“Mm?”

“Love you,” he muttered, awkwardly opening his arms. Makoto squinted at him, before making a half-shriek, half-laugh of a noise and flinging his arms around Keishin, eyes glossy. 

“Love you too, dumbass,” he muttered. _Damn holidays making me emotional. I need a cigarette._ “Are you going to shovel talk me now that I’m confessing to Yusuke?”

“Nah,” Keishin murmured. “It’s like you’re confessing to my brother…but you’re also my brother…in a not-incesty way,” he added hastily. Makoto pulled out of their embrace and glared at him.

“I know, I know, I ruined the moment,” he mumbled. “I’m going to go now. Thanks, Mako, for helping me with all this,” he added, gesturing to the prettily decorated box, hiding its twenty precious chocolates with light green paint and little white hearts.

“Hmm, you’re going to have two best men at your wedding,” Makoto grinned. The thought of Takeda in a white suit suddenly hit him, and Keishin blushed fiercely and slapped the top of Makoto’s head. “Okay, okay! Seriously, though, I have faith in you. It’ll be great.”  
“Here’s hoping,” Keishin murmured, holding the box of chocolates close.

**7:38 PM, Karasuno High School gym, Miyagi.**

Keishin’s fingers twitched and he fought the urge to drop the chocolates on the floor and sprint off to a corner to light a cigarette. _Come on, Keishin. You owe yourself this. You have a shot, freaking shoot it._ He waved off the last of the students trickling out of the gym, jackets pulled tight against the February cold, offering Nishinoya’s bright thumbs-up a half smile and trying to ignore the pinching jealousy at Sawamura and Sugawara’s entwined hands, at Tanaka’s arm looped around Ennoshita’s waist. He took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. The chilly air wasn’t quite as cooling as menthol on his tongue, but it did the trick. _Come on, Keishin._

He glanced over his shoulder. Takeda was searching for something in the bottom of his bag. _Now or never._

“Hey, Specs,” he managed. _Okay, good start. Could’ve called him by his name but it’s fine. Come, on, you’ve got his attention, say something!_

“Oh! Hello,” Takeda exclaimed, standing very still. _Cute._ _Stop thinking about how cute he is._ “I was actually meaning to ask you something, too.” _Don’t get your hopes up don’t get your hopes up do NOT get your hopes up--_

“Here,” he muttered, holding out the box. Takeda looked adorably confused, head tilted, doe eyes wide. “They’re chocolates. For you, that is.”

“Oh,” Takeda said, and Keishin’s stomach flipped. Dimly, he thought it wouldn’t matter how this all ended up, because he’d gotten to feel the brush of Takeda’s soft hands against his and see the pink clinging to his cheeks as he looked up at him. _Okay. First part done. You gave him the chocolates now you just need to--_

“I didn’t get you anything,” Takeda said softly, tucking the box of chocolates under one arm and holding Keishin’s hands between his own. His heart thudded painfully.

“You didn’t need to,” he managed, thought it came out in a whisper. He wondered if it was possible to combust from someone holding your hands and looking at you. He hoped Yusuke would take over as coach. It was his fault this was happening, anyway. _Wedding my ass, Mako, you’re going to be planning my funeral--_ “Hey,” he mumbled, running his thumb over Takeda’s knuckles. He inhaled. There was no taste of menthol, but the clean scent of shampoo served the same purpose. “You, uh. You wanna get dinner with me?”

Takeda looked up at him. Keishin thought he felt time stop as something flickered behind those damned brown eyes. _Fuck did I misread this goddamnit Yusuke I’m going to--_ he felt a tug on his collar and suddenly he was being kissed, fiercely, in a way he hadn’t been kissed ever, and he barely held back a laugh of pure delighted wonder as he wound a hand through Takeda’s soft dark curls and smiled against his mouth. They stood there, Keishin reveling in the way the smaller man fit against him, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. Takeda’s small warm hands had settled themselves at the back of his neck, and Keishin had wrapped his arms around Takeda’s waist.

“I’m hoping that’s a yes,” he breathed, unable to hold back his smile. He felt like he was flickering and burning, glimmering like a hundred Christmas lights. It would not surprise him to be informed that he was literally glowing, holding a blushing, laughing Takeda Ittetsu in his arms.

“Yes, yes, yes, a hundred times yes,” Takeda whispered giddily, burying his face in the crook of Keishin’s neck. His heart stuttered. _God, I’m so in love with this man._ Keishin tilted Takeda’s face upwards and kissed him again, softly, slanting their mouths together like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, wondering at the way he could hold Takeda’s entire little frame in the space between his shoulders. “You’re cute,” he murmured, because he’d wanted to say it for months now. He smiled triumphantly at the rise of color on Takeda’s cheeks, bumping their foreheads together and kissing the corner of his mouth. The teacher’s eyebrows scrunched together and he sandwiched Keishin’s face between his soft little hands, squinting at him.

“You’re pretty,” he retorted, finally, and Keishin felt his face burn. Takeda laughed. Keishin spun them around, a lazy three steps of dancing, the box of chocolates still tucked under Takeda’s arm. Keishin gathered him into his arms again and leaned down to kiss him once more. It tasted like the cold night air, and the thousand unspoken confessions he’d bitten back over the past months, like the bright-sour-sweet raspberries tucked into rose-shaped chocolates. A soft smile against his mouth, a small warm hand slipped into his. He tucked a stray curl behind Takeda’s ear and bit his lip at the smile that threatened to split his face apart, looking at a softly laughing Takeda Ittetsu held between his arms.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Ittetsu,” he murmured, grinning at the soft gasp his words gave, brushing his lips over pale knuckles. Those dark brown eyes, crinkling at the edges with something warm and sweet and beautiful.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Keishin.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> bonus:
> 
> Yusuke pulled back from Makoto, holding the shorter man's face in one hand, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Like a cat chasing a laser beam, he dipped his head back to kiss him again, again, again.  
> "You really had to make me wait a whole decade, huh?" he teased, running his thumb over the curve of a cheekbone. Makoto's eyes were glossy, he knew his were too.  
> "You could have just told me," Makoto retorted softly, tangling his hands in Yusuke's short hair. Yusuke hooked a finger through Makoto's belt loop and tugged him flush against his own chest, pushing his glasses up against glossy dark hair and cradling his face in one hand. He was so goddamn lucky, he thought, thanking every deity that had ever smiled down upon him, to be standing here with his arms around the man he was certain was the love of his life.  
> "Well," he whispered, kissing both corners of Makoto's mouth, and then the middle, trailing a hand down his arm, "we'll just have to make up for lost time."
> 
> \----
> 
> bye this was so messy i have too many emotions abt karasuno alumni. find me on twitter @peppershr1ke to yell about haikyuu/jjk/anything really. have a wonderful day! mwah


End file.
